


By the Sea

by lodgedinmythoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodgedinmythoughts/pseuds/lodgedinmythoughts
Summary: It's those everyday moments that mean the most.





	By the Sea

The sand is soothing against your feet as you draw random patterns where you stand. The waves crash onto the shore, and the breeze blows against you. The sea is a refuge, its sounds an afternoon lullaby.

You abandon your design to spin in the opposite direction, the wind now blowing against your back. Your hair billows out against your face as you spy the lone figure in the medium distance sitting against the sand dune, sketchbook on his lap.

“Steve!”

He halts the movement of his pencil and looks up. “Yeah?”

You beckon him over. “C’mere! Let’s build a sandcastle!" You see him smile, shaking his head to himself in amusement before returning his attention to his sketchbook. You run over to him. “Hey, dork, I asked you a question.” You land next to his knees, your legs lying out while you’re on your side with one outstretched arm supporting you.

“Technically, it wasn’t a question.”

You sing your next words. “Do you wanna build a sandman?”

“I know you wanna build a sandcastle just so you can sing that.”

You laugh and grip his shin. “Oh, shut up.” You attempt a peek at his sketch. “Whatcha drawing?”

“It’s nearly done.”

You crane your neck as he continues his work. When you see what's on the page, your heart gives way to a slight flutter. It’s a sketch of you from behind as you etch patterns into the sand. Your hair is blown out and your head’s bent down as you arch your foot to dig into the sand. Your loose jeans are rolled up above the ankles and your cardigan flows long and loose down your body. The sketch is simple, unadorned but for the natural surroundings. It feels slightly strange to recognize it as such considering you’re the subject, but you can’t help but smile softly at the feeling of quiet innocence it evokes.

“That’s beautiful,” you say. “The drawing, I mean. Not me.” You look up at Steve from your position and pull a face, knowing how it must sound like you’re fishing for a compliment.

He’s paused his work now. “That’s where I beg to differ.”

You wish you could keep from blushing, but the man knows how to bring it out of you without even trying. He leans over to capture your lips with his. It’s a sweet kiss; you’re smiling into it. He closes the sketchbook, sets it down and, before you know it, you’re being hauled into the air as he tucks you horizontally under one arm and makes his way closer to shore, looking like a man with all the time in the world.

You let out a noise and grab the other end of his waist. “Steve! What are you doing?”

“It’s vacation. I’m enjoying it.”

“Where was that when I asked you to build a sandcastle?”

In response, you’re hefted up and over his shoulder before you’re slowly sliding down his front, his hand bringing your legs to lock around his waist while his other arm wraps tightly around your back. Your arms automatically go around his neck.

“Hold on,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Steve Rogers,” you say in warning.

He’s moving faster toward the water, the sound of the waves behind you growing louder. You turn your head to look behind you and press a hand against his chest, as though that were enough to stop him.

“Steve! We’re still in our clothes!”

“We’ll change.”

“You crazy—” You’re cut off by your own gasp as a splash of cold water hits your lower back. “It’s so cold!”

“I’ll keep you dry.”

“It’s too late, dummy!” You laugh. You try to hold in a squeal as you squeeze yourself around him. The man is a furnace compared to the late autumn water. He keeps his word, though; when the small waves come your way, he hops with them so as not to jostle the two of you too much. You take a peek down his body and can’t help but laugh at the sight of his saturated jeans.

Soon he’s making his way a bit closer to shore, but only until you’re in water that reaches his shin. You’re both laughing, holding onto each other. Your head is craned toward his, but then he starts spinning and you find your head thrown back like you don’t have a care in the world.

The ocean is loud enough that soon your unabashed sounds of glee are drowned out. The world stops spinning, and you look into Steve’s eyes to find a contentment there that matches your own. Without thought, you bring up your thumb to stroke the side of his face. His eyes shutter closed for a second before he takes that hand in one of his and presses a soft kiss to your palm. The seagulls continue their trek around the skies, the sun illuminates everything like it has done and will do for billions of years, the water sloshes against the man who holds you, body and soul.

By the sea is where you long ago realized you loved Steve Rogers. You stood in front of the water, lamenting the hopelessness of your situation. He’d never love you back.

But he did.

By the sea is where you share your thousandth kiss, and it’s where you walk, hand in hand, up the beach and back to the house.

He glances at you with a tranquil smile, and you feel a tugging in your chest. You don’t know what the days ahead will hold, but you’ll take each day as it comes.


End file.
